Give and Take
by 221B-ShipperSt
Summary: Sherlock and John are in for the ride of a lifetime when a girl shows up on their doorstep.
1. Well this is new

**Author's Note:**

**Hey guys, this is my first attempt at Johnlock of any kind.**

**Just a few quick things before you read. **

**For starters, I do not own any of the world Sherlock lives in. As much as I would**

**enjoy that, the lovely Mr. Holmes and everyone else are not mine. The OC who shall appear**

**in later chapters, however, is mine.**

**Any thoughts, concerns, critiques would be helpful.**

**Enjoy, kids!**

"So you see, the mailman couldn't have done it." "Yes...but how?" "Oh John, you are _so stupid_sometimes." The shorter man simply glared tiredly at the curly haired detective to his right. Sherlock knew he was waiting for the answer. And he was more than willing to supply it.

He tentatively (Since when was he tentative?) reached out for the other's hand and grasped it palm upwards in his. John was cold. An unwanted, unexplainable tinge of worry ripped through him. Why does _he_care? John was a fully grown, perfectly capable man.

He proceeded to explain how the man's hands were much too big to be the killer. But his mind was a thousand miles away. These feelings for John were becoming regular. It worried him deeply. John was so...so John and it didn't make sense.

Bloody hell, he reminded Sherlock of a _goddamned_ _hedgehog_(But those were cute as well! Damn!)! He snapped out of his thoughts upon hearing a small throat clearing. John was looking rather uncomfortably at him-...he was still holding his hand. "Well then, did you follow that?" "Of course I did!" The cabbie smiled knowingly at the two as John yanked his hand from Sherlock's lingering touch with a huff. He probably thought they were in love. At the moment, he wasn't so sure if the man was that far off.

John walked slightly ahead of Sherlock as they stepped out of the cab. It was a brisk day out. Sherlock shrugged his coat closer. He wondered how his blogger was holding up. His blogger? "Sherlock, are cases always this...?" John left the question hanging "Dull? Sometimes. Nothing interesting really happens unless a proper genius decides to start running around killing people." he answered quickly, almost deftly, wanting to get back to the sudden questions bubbling up in his mind.

John made a noise in his throat as he shivered slightly against the wind and absently moved closer to the taller man. Sherlock noted this, of course, as the wind sped past. Maybe he should share his scarf with his obviously cold friend. Was John a friend though? "You're cold." He glared up at Sherlock's smug expression "No. I'm fine. I quite _enjoy_the brisk feel in the air."

John almost gasped aloud as a pair of incredibly _warm_, delicate hands were suddenly about his neck. He inhaled deeply and snuggled deeper into the folds of warm wool, throat making an involuntary noise of blissful approval. Sherlock chuckled at his flatmate's absolutely endearing nature. What was this? He wasn't a man of sentiment. But then why was he so excited by _the idea_ that John loved the scent of his scarf? He didn't know what to think of it. This was a very difficult fact to swallow for the man. Very difficult.


	2. Holes

They rounded the corner laughing about some man's choice in clothing (or lack thereof). As they calmed Sherlock smiled down at John. He couldn't _believe_ how fond he'd grown of the man. He was such a grounding force in his life, a much needed one at that. There was no length he wouldn't go to, nothing he wouldn't do (within reason, of course) to make sure he was alright. Subtlety of course; John was a man who could hide in plain sight. Well, not _entirely_ to him. But he was still a bit of a mystery.

It amazed the youngest of the odd pair. He was so...accepting of all the little quirks and hiccups in Sherlock's personality. Plus, John was so _loyal_; always willing to dash into danger with him from the first moment they met. But this wasn't just one-sided. Sherlock liked to think they were give and take. Although John was more give and Sherlock was more take. He knew he added the desperately needed spice to John's dull life. Moreover, he was teaching him to think, really think. It was so cliché how well they fit.

They seemed to fill up all the gaps in the other's being. He mentally reprimanded himself for his thought pattern. It's safer, smarter, not to go there. And Sherlock knew _damn well_ how smart he was. He was sure as hell smart enough to know better. He was a bloody brilliant consulting detective (not that there was anyone else to compare himself to) for Christ's sake! A sigh escaped as he resigned himself to drop it for now. They were almost home and there was a case to be solved. Anyway, John was no idiot and he might realize something was wrong; which at the moment would be the farthest _and_ closest to the truth.

He shut the door behind him and swept off his coat. "John, it's rather cold." "Someone forgot to pay the heating bill...again. You know it's your bill, Sherlock." He groaned as he watched the older of the two shrug off his coat...but he kept the scarf. A warm tingling filled him as he realized he liked it that much. And now it would smell like John.

He blinked rapidly trying to clear his head. _For once_, he didn't want to think. He wanted to be dull. He wanted to just be _emotional_. He wondered what it was like to be normal. It must be fun otherwise less people would be doing it. "Sherlock?" "Hmmmm? What is it? I wasn't listening." He bit back a chuckle as a vein popped out on John's neck. "Oh you never listen! Why do I even bother?" "Because for some inexplicable reason you like me."

"Damnit all, Sherlock! I'm being serious!" An involuntary wince rocked Sherlock's stance. What the bloody hell was wrong with him? This happened all the time. It never bothered him before. But his words were becoming more and more corrosive at his soul. It hurt more than Sherlock was willing to admit...even to himself.

John was raving on and on about Sherlock's lack of responsibility. "Sherlock, sometimes you are so inhuman! I don't understand how you can be so bloody unrealistic! For a genius you are so stupid! Seriously-...!" "John!" The shorter man froze at the sharpness in his voice.

It startled him Sherlock noted. He had so much he wanted to say. They both did. There was so much to say. He inhaled deeply and strode John's way. He tensed. Brushing past him, Sherlock reached out for his coat. "I'm going out. I'll give you a chance to calm down." With that the door slammed and John was left with regret clinging as bitterly to his lips as the scent of Sherlock to the bloody scarf still wrapped around his neck. He tore it off in frustration.


	3. Coming and Going

**Author's Note:**

**Heads up, this story changes POV, right now we're seeing John's side.**

**And in a few chapters we'll see it through my OC's eyes.**

**Enjoy, kids!**

John bustled about the kitchen. Damn Sherlock and his stupid brain. He really didn't notice how much his detachedness hurt John. He couldn't. John was _in love_ with the man for pities' sake! How could he not see it? Everything John did pointed to it! The anger turned to pain as he practically threw the kettle down on the stove.

It was stupid really. Sherlock was married to his work. He didn't have time or space in that wonderful mind of his to worry about John. Tears were threatening. How did it come to this? He felt so pathetic. Soon he was sobbing. This was a regular occurrence. Why did it bother him so much? Sherlock never listened.

There was a knock at the door. John dried his tears hastily. Sometimes he felt like he spent too much time feeling the love-filled-angst towards Sherlock and not enough just being himself. He was lost in the younger man. He opened the door. There was a girl. She was very pretty-...she was bleeding! There was so much _blood_. John's doctor instincts kicked in and he ushered her in unthinkingly. "Come on, sweetheart. We need to set you down."

She whimpered, stumbling forward onto the couch. He vaguely heard the kettle screeching as he ran up the stairs for his medical supplies. The door shutting followed by the sound of a very weak scream resounded through the flat. He hastily turned around. "Sherlock, is that you?" "Who's this?" "I don't know-Move your arm. Thank you.-She just showed up on the door step." "Who are you?" She just moaned in reply. John hadn't seen this much blood since-...he inhaled sharply at the sudden memory but continued on. She needed to be saved.

John rubbed the back of his neck "Sherlock, what if she dies?" He shivered lightly as Sherlock rested his hand on his shoulder. Sometimes it was all _too much_. He hated feeling so much for the dark-haired man. But then, what was that saying? Hate isn't too far from love.

"You're a wonderful doctor, John. She'll be fine." "I sure hope so. She's so young to be this-..." He found his voice breaking. That was odd. She'd been plopped into their lives a few hours ago and yet this fatherly protectiveness was filling him. "I know."

They stared at the girl in silence. John really had done a great job patching her up. There would be no more blood, no scars either hopefully. Except for inevitable emotional ones. "John?" "Hmmmm?" "How come you didn't check to see who was at the door? You could've been killed with people like Moriarty and his henchmen running about." He laughed quietly. "I know that. Besides, what does it matter? I'm fine." "It matters to me." He craned his neck to look back at the taller of the two. So it seemed like the great man did have a bit of a heart.

His eyes looked almost _worried_. If he wasn't so awestruck he would've burst out laughing at the sheer ridiculousness (it's not like his life with Sherlock had been dull anyway) of the situation tonight. "I was a little distraught to say the least." "How come?" "Don't act like you don't know, Mr. Too-great-to-pay-attention-much-less-care." John started to pull away from his lingering touch but Sherlock held on tighter. It would've startled the man if he wasn't on the verge of tears...again. It hurt. Oh God! It was like someone had laid a giant weight on him. He just wanted to get away.

Lately he'd been wishing he could be emotionless like his counterpart. If only he could not feel. Then maybe the weight would leave his chest. Maybe he could breathe in his presence and stop all this goddamn blushing. "As much as I'd love to bask in your magnificence I do need to get a little sleep." Just like that Sherlock let go and John was practically running up to his room. But he was running from so much more then the detective's gentle touch at the moment in question. There were emotions to deal with...just not in front of Sherlock.


	4. Pleased to meet You

"She's awake!" John's eyes snapped open only to slide shut again. It was frightfully bright this morning. He groaned and started to roll out of bed only to realize that he couldn't move. "What in the good Lord's name-...?" Sherlock was _straddling_ him; eyes alight like a small child's. "Sherlock?" "Did you hear me, John?" "Yes. But erm-well, what are you doing on top of me?" He seemed to just realize that this wasn't exactly the best position for waking one's flatmate. John knew he had always had issues realizing a body's basic need for personal space but this...this was wonderful. No! What in God's name was he thinking?

An uncomfortable silence settled over them. He would've sworn Sherlock did this on purpose. After last night-...He looked away to try and cover up the blush staining his cheeks. It was crazy. How the hell did he always manage to be in situations like this? He tried to get up again. This time Sherlock hopped off. Their eyes met...was he blushing too?

He was blushing! Feeling a small twinge of victory, John shrugged on his dressing gown and climbed down the stairs feeling lighter than he had in days. The girl was sitting up, fiddling with one of the couch cushions. John smiled. She reminded him of Harry when she had gotten herself thrown in jail that one time. They both jumped as the man to his right cleared his throat. "What in the name of-...?" She blushed as she spotted them. Not that John could blame the teen (she looked to be about sixteen). She was, after all, in a strange house in nothing but her t-shirt and a pair of John's boxer's.

"Hey." "Hello then." He replied smilingly. She seemed to relax a little. "Would you like a spot of tea, love?" "I would _love_ some!" She hopped up "Let me help you make it." John almost choked on his own spit. Sherlock never offered to help him. "I'd love some help. Mind yourself though. If you get too dizzy you'll need to sit down, alright." "Sir, yes, sir." He tensed at the allusion to his military service. Bloody hell! Was it really that easy to tell he'd been a soldier?

"What did you say your name was?" "It's Kaelyn, Kaelyn Eaton." She replied without a hint of attentiveness. Her eyes wandered about their flat. He wondered if she'd injured her head as well. "Since you two aren't a couple, what do you call yourselves? You're clearly more than just friends and yet it seems neither of you will own up to it." Sherlock chocked on his tea and perked up. "Pardon?" She burst into giggles and smiled up at him.

"I'm assuming life partners, not with benefits though." They both stared at her with their mouths slightly ajar. She laughed loudly. "I'm sorry. I think it's an American thing but we just lack a sensor. I _am_ really sorry." "That was bloody incredible!" Sherlock leapt up, startling John into almost dropping his tea. She just laughed harder. The laugh turned into a cough. John smiled in spite of himself as Sherlock wrapped an arm around her shoulder. He was so protective sometimes. Although he said he had no heart, he really did.

He thinks someone hurt him so badly in his youth his ways became protection that he decided to never let go of. Except around John...he wondered if-...not it was ludicrous really. Sherlock could never _love_ John. Could he? "This is marvelous, John!" He snapped back to reality. "Ah yes, this is exactly what I need, a mini, female Sherlock. Do you think she'll ignore me as well?" Kaelyn giggled. She was so bubbly. And rather beautiful as well. Big brown eyes, like the color of copper wire and deep earth, a thick head of dark brown curls that flowed down her back in the perfect array of disarray, beautifully elongated body with tan, tan skin.

Her eyes darted up from the floor and she smiled at him fondly. "I owe you my life. I don't think I could ever ignore you." He shouted with laughter "As you've probably deduced by now, Sherlock is the flashy one here. I mean look at his _pants_." Sherlock glared at both of them as they continued laughing "I'll have you know-..." There was another knock at the door. "Ooh, ooh." "Come along then, Kaelyn. You just have to meet Mrs. Hudson." He smiled down at the small teen. Her hands were very warm. He'd have to check for remnant fever when they got back from tea. Maybe it was just another American thing though.


	5. Welcome Home?

**Author's Note:**

**Sorry! I know it's kinda short, don't hate me!**

**I just needed to keep this short because the next part is long and**

**it needed to be it's own separate thing. Just read it, ok?**

**Oh and this is Kaelyn's POV.**

**Enjoy, kids!**

It was hard to trust them. They had saved her life, no questions asked, no payment wanted. But after all she'd been through it was hard to trust anyone. They were, after all, _total strangers_to her. Even if she'd been sent here by that one private detective. It was hard to open up. She had never been good at trusting people. Let alone men after her father-...John chuckled at Sherlock's eagerness to show her his violin.

They were so in love it would be sickening if it wasn't so busy being adorable. She questioned how long it would take them to just start snogging already. Not that she liked that type of thing. She wondered if she'd ever find love like that. Her fingers wound around the refrigerator handle. This was just scarily _familiar_to her. She inexplicably felt like this had been her home for years. "Kaelyn, hurry up with the jam?"

She snapped back to reality and grabbed her quarry, barely even flinching at the jar of pinky toes the small jar was trapped behind. Bare feet padding along the floor, she didn't even realize the look on their faces until she sat down. They looked positively enraptured. "What? It's just a jar of jam." They all laughed and it was just marvelous. It was wonderful to be normal again. She had missed that so much.

Sherlock picked up his violin. He started playing something. He was quite good. She started clapping to the beat. She knew this song. Oh! It was that one that came on the radio that she loved so much. She was too shy to sing for them so she just thought the words. He really was a rather skilled player. It was awe-inspiring really. He finished and his two companions clapped. "Oh my sweet Jesus in heaven above, it was beautiful!" John nearly spat up his tea from laughter. "I warned you about the sensor thing. Anyway, can I hold it?" She'd missed that too. The feel of polished wood was so _lovely_.

"Ugh, I missed this." "Beg your pardon?" Oh. She forgot they were there. "The feel of polished wood on an instrument. I used to play the cello. I play the piano now though." "Really?" Sherlock launched into a speech on the wonderful qualities of the violin as she handed it back. She was only half listening. Her eyes wandered to John and were startled to find him looking back. She forgot she could touch her tongue to her nose. He burst into giggles. They were going to get along fine.


	6. Terrible Dreams

An earsplitting scream tore through the silent flat. She heard the pounding of footsteps vaguely. They were going to hurt her again. She couldn't-...They were in the shadows, waiting. Another scream, this one much smaller, exploded free. She was curled up in a ball, sobbing her lungs out, before her two saviors from earlier that week arrived.

"What is it!" John was on the bed by her side in an instant. Her sobs stopped instantaneously with her tears. She couldn't let them see her break. She just couldn't. He flicked on the lamp and layed his lager, rough hand over hers. The former army doctor seemed to _always_ know just what to do. Sherlock was distant though.

He remained out of reach. But she needed him too. Damn him! She'd known them scarcely a week and she _needed_ them! How did her walls come down so quickly? Not even caring anymore as her hand reached out to beckon him, she felt the pent-up tears starting to fall again. No! She couldn't cry! "What's wrong?" "Please, Kaelyn, we can't help you if you don't let us. We won't hurt you." She whimpered and reached out for the taller one in the corner again. This time he obliged. He sat awkwardly at first but his jaw tensed as their eyes stayed locked. He was deducing what had happened to her.

"These men beat me up, ok? I was walking home from getting groceries and they jumped me and told me to stay away. They wouldn't stop hitting me. Over and over and-..." Sherlock stared at her open mouthed. "They did what?" "You heard me." she murmured as she swiped at the freshly falling tears. John wrapped a cautious arm around her shoulders and she leaned into the crook of his neck. Soon she was sobbing again.

She _hated_ this. She hated feeling dirty and indebted and horrid. Sherlock was cooing little nothings in her right ear, John in her left. It felt good to have someone (in this case there were two) strong to comfort her again. She felt like a baby though. Calming down, she tried to pull away from this awkward yet comfortable group hug. But they held her tighter, especially Sherlock. That was weird. She thought he didn't like her. Oh well.

She snuggled deeper into their respective, protective holds on her. These men were so _different_ from any she had ever met. They loved deeply, and quickly. Maybe she could trust them. "Can one of you stay with-...?" "We both will." She looked to John gratefully before burying her face in his neck again. It was weird. They were so willing to love her and yet they wouldn't express their love for each other. She'd have to observe why in the morning. Right now she'd just let them protect her. After all, what were men good for if not that?


	7. Morning light

She woke up slowly. It was a Saturday and it wasn't like she had anywhere to be. The first thing she felt was two arms, two different ones, around her waist. Panic filled her at the memory of last night's dream but then she calmed as she saw the lax faces of John and Sherlock. Her heart swelled. They had stayed with her all night, true to their word.

It was comforting to know someone out there cared enough to shush her fears. She snuggled into the pillows, savoring the warmth all three of them had generated. Sherlock stirred to her right and John started snoring. They were so perfect. Maybe she could stay here. Her past would melt away and she could start all over again-...What was wrong with her? It had only been a week. What was it about these two?

She tentatively reached out and smoothed a curl off of the infamous detective's forehead. John stirred, murmuring "Sherlock..." A snort-cough burst out against her will. It was hysterical how obvious their love for each other really was. That was it right there. They were endearing. They had this way about them that sucked you in no matter how hard you tried to fight it. Her eyes drifted to the clock. It was 10:30 already. Knowing she wouldn't be able to get up without waking them she decided to do it with a bang.

It hurt to sing it but it was the only thing she could think of. Her mind went over the opening. That homeless man had picked it up quickly from her mother. It would've freaked her out if he hadn't been such a comfort. Dropping the memories the decidedly unsavory memories, she sung. It was really a beautiful tune. John was the first to wake up. Reaching out, she fluffed his hair. It was soft, like the rug in their living room.

He smiled at her fondly. She almost stopped. But then she smiled back and sighed happily. He hadn't quite grasped the music. That was good. He wouldn't remember how embarrassingly horrid her voice was. Soon John was staring at her, mouth slightly agape. It was making her uneasy. Why wouldn't he just wake up already? Sherlock must sleep heavily. Mother was a heavy sleeper. Her eyes closed on their own accord. Maybe it was to help her remember...maybe it was to help her forget.

The pleasant darkness invited her, called to her. It was swallowing all the pain, but gently. It seemed comical. Darkness couldn't be gentle could it? She heard a gasp to her right as she hit the high note. Startled, she dropped the tune immediately. Her eyes snapped open. They were staring at her. "I'm sorry. I know I don't sing the best I just thought you would like a wakeup call with a nice song. I am so-..." Sherlock reached out and touched her cheek. "John, it seems that not only is Miss Eaton incredibly smart and beautiful." John gave a soft chuckle. The two were like cotton candy for Christ's sake.

He nods and takes a tone of mock seriousness "Yes of course. She has a natural born talent for all things musical." She giggled and tried to get up. But Sherlock tightened his grip. "You're not going anywhere, missy." If he hadn't had that joking tone she would've punched him and ran. That's what they had said before they beat her up.

"We shall be making you breakfast." "We'll eat in bed today, ok?" John was ogling Sherlock's bare chest and the taller man was loving every second. "Mmmmm." John leaned in and kissed the tip of her nose. A giggle shook loose from her throat as John straightened. He was happy to have her here, truly, sincerely happy. _That_ was a first from a man. It made her feel all fuzzy inside. Sherlock smoothed a curl away from her forehead. He was fonder of her than he was willing to admit. She knew it.

The door shut, pulling her out of her musings. Just like they were gone, leaving her with nothing but her thoughts and both of their delectable scents to fill her consciousness. Maybe she should just sleep again. At least she wouldn't have to think about anything. No. She would help them out. She was taking up their time and their food. They deserved a little help in return. That was how she could convince them to keep her!

She could offer to work for her room and board. She grabbed Sherlock's left behind dressing gown and wrapped it about herself. It was more than a little long. Humming quietly, her feet _practically dragged_ her out the door and down the stairs. "I want to help!" There was someone else here. It was that lovely woman from downstairs and a man...there was a boy here as well. Well damn. He was rather handsome. He had to be at least a year older than her. He was Sherlock's height with John's build. Perfect. His eyes were blue, his hair a soft shade of blonde that fell into his eyes. She flushed and tucked her hair behind her ear.

"Kaelyn. There you are, love. Come meet Lestrade and his nephew." She just nodded dumbly. He was staring back at her...wonderful. She tentatively walked towards them. Men always made her nervous. She was mentally kicking herself for being so vulnerable. She had to be strong. "Kaelyn?" "I'm sorry?" They all laughed. Great. Nothing like becoming a laughing stock to wake one up in the morning.

"This is Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade and-..." "I'm Rain." "His mother was always a creative one." She had died. How awful...they were in the same boat. He was blushing horribly. They were still holding hands! She smiled over at John to hide the blush creeping up her cheeks. "Pleasure to meet you both." She pulled back sharply and everyone around the two started laughing. This was ridiculous. An odd jumble of random strangers was cooing over her. She felt like a puppy. There was definitely going to be a talk about this later. She was a bloody human, damnit! Sherlock seemed to sense her aggravation. "Lestrade, what was it you wanted? We were planning on having a family breakfast." The police officer choked on his coffee. "We have a case for you." "Marvelous!" She was guessing that "family (since when was she family?) breakfasts" didn't happen often here. Wonderful! She was special then.


	8. What's mine is Yours

**Author's Note:**

**We're back to Sherlock again! I'm sorry Kaelyn's chapters**

**were so short. I just had the biggest case of writer's block. But hey,**

**I tried. Anyway, hope you guys like it so far.**

**Enjoy kids!**

"It really is great having her here, Sherlock." "It is." She was singing at the top of her lungs (which was much louder than one would think it possible) from the shower. "Have you figured out why she showed up here?" It had been a whirlwind week and a half. Trying to pin that down was hard, especially since Kaelyn gave him almost nothing to work with. Moreover, his growing feelings towards John were becoming a distraction.

"No. I'm hopping taking her to the crime scene with us will open her up a little. Then I can figure it out from there." John nodded, shrugging his jumper on. He marveled at the man's back muscles. He'd always had a weird thing for back muscles. Oh well, everyone had their quirks and he was no exception. Although, he would admit to more quirks that the average person. But since when was he of all people average?

John ruffled his hair and turned back to face the taller of the two. "Plus you want to test her deduction skills." "Well, that might be advantageous while we're there." He huffed and marched around the bed. He was frustrated. Knowing John, he probably thought he only liked the girl because of her brain. But it was more than that. She had this gravity. Moreover, John seemed attached to the young thing and anything that made John happy made him happy in extension. Since when did that happen? What was that-...? It was his breath. John was so close it was giving Sherlock near palpitations. The things that man could do to him. "I like Kaelyn as more than a guinea pig, John; don't get your knickers in a knot."

In this world where most people had the brain power of about the average cow, it was refreshing to find intellect like these two. Two? Yes, John was bright in his own respect. He smiled at the thought. John. It was such a lovely name. "Sherlock, what in God's name are you smiling about?" He sighed as he was pulled out of his musings yet again by John Hamish Watson. But then he was the only one who could bring his massive brain grinding to a halt. "I was saying how we should probably share your bed for the time being." His heart skipped a beat. Sleep with John? A blush crept up his collar. Sleeping with John.

John was blushing fiercely. They both were. "Why?" "She's a sixteen year old female and we're two grown men. You do the math." He poked Sherlock in the center of his forehead causing him to stumble back a few steps. That was odd; usually he was so...well graceful. He knew John loved that. Therefore, he became even more balanced and poised in his presence. He swallowed and straightened. If it had to be done. Who the hell was he fooling? He'd been waiting on this opportunity for years. He wouldn't dare to pass it up.

John was looking at him expectantly, as if with baited breath. Sherlock couldn't blame him though. He would have been shaking the man for the answer by now if it had been him. "I wouldn't mind. Sleeping is-..." "Dull, I know, I know. Just like breathing, and pretty much anything else that doesn't show off your massive intellect." "Jealous?" John chuckled...but there was a hint to sadness in it. "I'm ready!" They strode out of the room, John at the lead. "You look marvelous." She giggled. She did look rather stunning. "Just so you know, Lestrade's nephew will be there-..." "Oh believe me, I know." He hadn't laughed that hard since Mrs. Hudson had found the head in the fridge last year.


	9. Bloody Brilliant

Kaelyn leaned over the detective's shoulder, humming quietly. She had the prettiest voice. He imagined it would woo Rain quite soundly. "Sherlock?" All heads snapped their way. No one ever interrupted him while he was deducing. He supposed he would make an exception since she was recently traumatized and new to this. When the hell did he get so soft? John was turning him into a cotton ball. He made a mental note to screech on his violin at three in the morning. It was retaliation, of course. How dare these two unlock his hidden emotions so easily. "What is it?" Everyone in the room released a held breath. "I was wondering what the man was doing here. He obviously wasn't killed here." This was exactly what he was hoping to see.

"What do you think?" "Me?" "No, the bloody wall." She giggled instead of looking hurt. Odd. She must be rather sarcastic. "Well, he wasn't killed here, as I said. I mean, it's obvious. No blood anywhere, miniscule drag-marks in the carpet. The drop in the amount of indentation tells us he's been here for a while. Though I'm not quite sure how long." She was bloody brilliant. He was skilled at her age, but not quite as humble. "I place him on a business trip, he's been here no more than a week from the bags under his eyes. He's rich but...but something's damaged his financials. His watch is a replacement. You can see the faint outline of a bigger tan lie than this watch creates. He has a family to hide this from then. A father of two or three, I would guess. Moreover, he's from somewhere with a lot of sun. This was a long trip. It must've been incredibly important. So maybe a stock-broker or a loan shark. A job that would cause sudden dips in income. But those types have lots of enemies so that doesn't give us much. And he was from somewhere far away, which also doesn't help. It could be, quite possibly, out of your jurisdiction, Lestrade." Their jaws were on the floor. "You, my dear, are brilliant." Sherlock kissed her on the cheek and launched into a full deduction. She was bloody brilliant! The room was still in a state of shock though. Odd. Lestrade had an apprentice as well. His skill was much more important than police work. And his newly found assistant was much better looking than Rain over there. Then again, nobody was great looking compared to John.

Sherlock knew they were looking for an incredibly fearsome man. Just looking at the way this drug smuggler was killed, he was a little disgusted. Maybe he was worried for his two companions. But he'd never worried like that before when it was just the two of them. It was eating at him how dangerous this would be. That was odd usually he was all for the thrill of the crime scene. It was a natural high. After John had made him stop the drugs-...There were the thoughts of John again. He always seemed to bubble up at the most inopportune moments. Oh John. He and Kaelyn were mucking about the crime scene. Rain was looking rather jealous. It was laughable. She knew exactly how to get his attention. Maybe he should try that with John. He had known him for two, going on three years now. Why the hell not? Maybe he would finally have some peace of mind once he knew John's feelings towards him once and for all.

"Wait, Donavan!" That bloody awful woman was already put off with her. Why on earth would she instigate? Of course they were putting the evidence away wrong, this was the Metropolitan Police! She reached out-...Donavan slapped her hand away! Things got rather quiet as the sound echoed down the hall of the abandoned building. It was like these people had no jobs. Honestly, this wasn't a soap opera. "Just thought I'd let you know that wasn't an evidence bag. The victim's head was wrapped in that." She shrieked and yanked her hands away. Kaelyn snorted. Wall damn. She'd made an enemy already.


	10. Awkward

They were back at Scotland Yard. He still hadn't gotten over how she was so brilliant. Underneath that endearing smile was an intellect, a wonderful one. His eyes wandered...there. Her and John were laughing about something Rain had said. Sod it all. Donavan looked irritated still. It must hurt to get shown up by a high school kid though. "Oh look, it's the mini-freak." She winced. They were all glaring at the detective inspector's underling. She could really be a bitch some-...no she was just a bitch. It was in her bones he guessed. Kaelyn looked at a loss for words. Which was not only a first since he'd known her, but an overall oddity.

Sherlock found his jaw clenching in rage. How dare she! It was fine to mess with him. It was even fine to occasionally rough him up. But no one (and he meant no one) was allowed to mess with John or Kaelyn. Since when did he feel that? It didn't even matter. He opened his mouth-..."How cute, it's the Sherlock wanna-be. Don't you have to go shag Anderson or something, bitch?" Donavan's jaw dropped "You little-...!" "At least I can still be considered little, Thunder Thighs." John coughed loudly. Donavan marched off cursing under her breath. He guessed the high school approach did work from time to time. Duly noted, Kaelyn, duly noted.

The cab ride home was fairly quiet. All of them sat in silence mulling over today's events. It had been quite a day. For one, they now knew she could observe and deduce quite well. Why had she needed his help then if she could figure it out for herself if she really tried? Sherlock still didn't know what in God's name Kaelyn had shown up on their doorstep for. It was eating at him. Ordinarily, it would've already been solved and she would've been gone. But John was so fond of her. But then so was he-...there was something on his shoulder. John had dozed off. He was such a beautiful sleeper. Sherlock tried to breathe as gently as possible. The ex-army doctor slept rather lightly. And he wanted him to sleep. He needed the rest after running after their newest companion all day. Besides, it was much easier than sneaking into his room early in the morning. Maybe he would hold off playing the violin. Just for a day or two, of course. He didn't want anyone thinking he'd gone all soft.

"John. Wake up." Kaelyn had already paid the cabbie and run off with Sherlock's house key. The man slowly eased awake. "Come along, Dr. Watson." She was dashing around the flat by the time John and Sherlock opened the door. "I figured I'd make dinner since we just got a case. Sherlock, I know you're not fond of eating but you need to try this! It's my own take on Chinese and it is to die for." John gripped her shoulders "Calm down, love. We aren't going anywhere." "I'm sorry, I'm just randomly hyper.""It's a new case high. I used to get them when I was your age." They were both staring at him. He realized her probably didn't seem like the giddy type. There were actually quite a few things that made him that way (most of them related to John) that didn't have to do with cases. John coughed and sighed "Don't break anything." She giggled, kissed his cheek, and dashed off into the kitchen again. "Well damn.


	11. Wrapped in a Scraf

**Author's Note:**

**All I have to say is this is John's POV agin.**

**Enjoy, kids!**

"John, where's my scarf?" "Hmmmmm?" "Where in the hell is my scarf!" "I have it!" Kaelyn was at his side, holding the threadbare strip of fabric. Why on earth would she have Sherlock's scarf? That was odd. But then she was an oddity in and of herself. But a pleasant one. John had decided he was going to ask her to stay with them. They could use an extra hand and plus she was so wonderful. Sherlock looked angry. Sod it all. "Why?" "Well, dad-...Oh my God. I'm sorry." Now that was something he'd never expected to hear from her lips. "Dad?" He raised an eyebrow. This was going to be interesting. "I'm sorry! Daddy, can you-...Motherfuckercockshitbitchtits." "Language, young lady." Daddy? At least it was better than dad. It had a more endearing quality.

John knew Sherlock was itching to know she was here. He saw it in his eyes every time he looked at her. He wanted to know as well. Things had changed quite a bit since her arrival. He wished that Sherlock would just let it be for a little longer though. She had been obviously traumatized and he wasn't sure if dredging up all those memories was good for her health. Anyways, he hated seeing anyone cry. He was a sympathetic crier. "Kaelyn, we need to know why you came to our flat." His face was unreadable, as it so often was.

"I came here for help. You see my mother went missing and I couldn't figure it out." Her eyes were full of tears. "I tried for weeks, months, but all the leads went dead, all the trails cold. So I started trying to earn money so I could hire someone. But all the private detectives were even worse at it than me. The last one I had, Mr. Fitzberg, sent me here. He said you owed him a favor and that it should cover most of the expense. Nice man he was. But anyway, I was on my way here when those boys jumped me. They told me not to get involved. I kicked one in the balls and they started beating me up. After I got away I tried to hail a cab but well. So I walked. It was hard but I eventually wandered here and now here I am."

John's mouth hung agape. "All this time and you never asked for help?" "You guys are distracting and there never seemed to be a right time and I just wanted to forget everything for a while." Sherlock sighed. He knew she was here for a reason. "Kaelyn, we'll help you." John smiled. It was good to know that Sherlock had a heart still. "We'd like you to stay here for the time being-..." She launched herself at him. "Thank you! Thank you!" His eyes wandered to the taller man. He was smiling like an idiot. Bloody arse.


	12. Rain, Rain

She really was like the daughter he'd never had. They were dancing around the kitchen to some song on the radio while attempting to focus enough to make breakfast. Sherlock was looking on with that slightly amused look he often got around the two. John had to admit it was rather silly. She handed John the flour and danced over to the window, singing loudly. "Oh look, it's raining!" The window was promptly thrown open.

He knew it would be a rough day. The case had gotten solved last night while she was asleep. She knew but didn't ask. A wonderful quality if you asked John. But there was nothing for them to do all day. Therefore, Sherlock would be bored and irritable. Hopefully he wouldn't shoot the wall this time. "Can we go for a walk after breakfast?" "In the rain?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow. How the hell did one get that breathtaking? "Of course! There's nothing better than walking in the rain!" "Except not catching a cold." She stuck her tongue out at him and looked back to Sherlock. He really wanted him to say yes. It would be fun to get out of the house. Plus anyway it would get thoughts of last night out of his head.

He nodded as he sat at the table. He had forgotten how squeaky and screechy girls could be. Poor Sherlock. Man didn't stand a chance. He was completely wrapped up in Kaelyn's arms and seemed to hate every second of it. She kissed his cheek and was soon off again to flip her pancakes and check the bacon. John placed his hand on Sherlock's shoulder. "Quite the girl." "Yes, quite. John ,listen, about last night-..." "It's fine." They sunk into a comfortable silence watching their newest family member "cook". He could've sworn Sherlock was blushing before. But then, so was he. John was so lost in his thoughts he forgot his hand was still on Sherlock's shoulder. Not that it was a bad thing.

They ate in relative silence. The occasional appreciate moan or snippet of conversation was all that interrupted them. John was absolutely mesmerized, staring at Sherlock. Since when did he eat like that? They way he liked the syrup off the fork was pure seduction. He couldn't help wondering what else he could do with that mouth of his. Kaelyn seemed happily oblivious to all of this. But was she really? John suddenly found he didn't care as Sherlock started peeling the banana Kaelyn had left for him. Clever girl she was.

"Do you have everything, Sherlock?" John yelled from the bathroom. Just a few finishing touches and he would be perfect. After the whole thing at breakfast it was time for a little payback. "Papa, hurry up!" He was papa now? She was probably just messing with them. But then again maybe not. She was looking very put out until she saw him "You look great, John. Can we go now, please? I want to get out there before it stops raining." "Let's go." There was a pair of eyes ogling the back of his head. He smiled in spite of himself. Eat your heart out, Sherlock. Eat it out. Kaelyn was already out the door and down the stairs. Good. It was time for a little fun. Maybe if he was lucky there'd be a good snog or two before the day was out.


End file.
